Empowering Artisans, Protecting Girls

I was honoured to join Value Female Network Africa’s Women-Empowerment Safety Programme as a facilitator for master-artisans from two local government areas in Ekiti State. The programme’s aim—to equip master trainers who will then step the training down to girls and young women learning a trade—felt especially powerful. In two sessions I led, I explored what information and communication technology (ICT) and innovation mean for artisans today, and how those same technologies can be used to facilitate gender-based violence (GBV). My goal was practical and person-centred: to give master-trainers clear, everyday language and usable strategies they can pass on to apprentices so that learning a trade becomes not only economically empowering but also digitally safe.

I began by framing ICT and innovation in a way that connects directly with craft and apprenticeship. Technology is not an abstract concept meant only for programmers; it is a set of tools — phones, messaging apps, simple cameras, online marketplaces, short video platforms, and even basic digital payment systems — that extend an artisan’s reach, help preserve and share knowledge, and create income opportunities. Innovation, in this context, is about applying these tools in small, smart ways: using short how-to videos to teach a stitch or a finishing technique, creating a WhatsApp group to coordinate supply purchases and customer orders, and using simple mobile money links to receive advances for commissions. I stressed digital literacy as a core competence for the modern artisan: the ability to operate a device confidently, to identify trustworthy sources of information, to compose messages and images that represent one’s craft professionally, and to use online tools for business management and marketing. These are practical skills that master-trainers can model and teach during day-to-day mentoring.

From that foundation I moved to a candid discussion about technology-facilitated gender-based violence. I defined it as any act where digital tools are used to harass, exploit, intimidate, control, or shame someone because of their gender. This can look like persistent unwanted messages and calls, threats shared over social media, non-consensual sharing of intimate photos, online stalking that follows a person from platform to platform, impersonation, or targeted campaigns of humiliation. I emphasized that while technology can amplify harms — by making content viral, by allowing anonymity for abusers, or by enabling continuous surveillance — the underlying drivers are often the same gendered power imbalances and social norms that exist offline. For apprentices who are young women learning a skill, the threat is particularly acute because their digital footprints often interweave with their social lives, livelihoods, and training environments.

To make the risk concrete and actionable, I described typical scenarios we might encounter in the field. A young tailor who posts photos of her finished garments to attract customers may receive sexualised comments or private messages pressuring her to meet clients in person. An apprentice who records a tutorial may be photographed and have those images edited or shared without consent. A master-trainer who uses WhatsApp to communicate may not realise that forwarding a trainee’s contact details or images without permission exposes that trainee to strangers. I explained the emotional, social and economic impacts: shame and isolation that drive apprentices away from training; reputational damage that undermines small businesses; and the stress and trauma that reduce learning capacity and productivity.

Practical prevention and response measures were central to both sessions. I taught simple, repeatable steps that master-trainers can immediately pass on. These included digital hygiene practices such as reviewing and tightening privacy settings on phones and social platforms, using secure passwords and enabling simple two-factor authentication where available, and being cautious about sharing personal contact details and locations publicly. I discussed how to cultivate consent-centred norms: always asking permission before taking or sharing someone’s photograph, explaining how images will be used, and modeling respectful online communication. I also covered what to do when abuse occurs: preserving evidence (screenshots, message headers), using platform reporting tools, blocking offenders, and where necessary escalating to local organisations or authorities that can intervene. Importantly, I stressed that emotional support and community validation are often the first and most effective responses; apprentices must not be blamed or silenced for reporting abuse.

Because the trainees will become trainers themselves, I spent time on methods for teaching these topics in workshop and apprenticeship settings. I recommended integrating short, scenario-based role plays into routine training so apprentices practise saying “no”, blocking, reporting, and explaining boundaries to clients. I encouraged the creation of peer support groups — small clusters of artisans who check in on one another and share safe business practices — and the use of simple job aids: laminated guides in the workshop showing step-by-step actions for securing a phone, an illustrated checklist for safe image sharing, and scripts for responding to common forms of harassment. I stressed the value of collaborating with existing community structures — parents, ward chairs, market leaders and local women’s groups — so that digital safety becomes a community norm rather than an individual burden.

I also addressed the policy and platform side in accessible terms. While artisans do not need to become legal experts, they benefit when master-trainers understand where to refer serious cases. I explained how to identify local organisations that support survivors, how to document incidents for formal complaints, and how to use platform-level reporting tools effectively by including necessary details. We talked about advocating for safer marketplace practices, for example, preferring platforms that verify buyers, or using vendor pages that limit who can message the seller directly. Above all, I urged trainers to keep learning: digital tools change rapidly, so cultivating a habit of checking for platform updates and sharing new tips with apprentices keeps the group resilient.

The sessions concluded with a forward-looking emphasis on empowerment. Technology, when used intentionally and safely, amplifies the artisan’s voice and business in ways that were once impossible: a small tailoring shop can reach customers across the state, a beadmaker’s unique design can attract orders from the diaspora, and a short tutorial can become a reliable revenue stream. But this potential is only worthwhile if safety is integrated from the start. I invited the master-trainers to see themselves not only as skills instructors but also as guardians of a safe learning environment: by modelling respectful online behaviour, by making time to teach digital basics, and by intervening when apprentices face harm. I offered practical next steps they could adopt immediately, hold a short digital safety moment at the beginning of every apprenticeship cohort, set up a mentoring pair system so newcomers have a trusted contact, and develop a simple workshop rule about photography and consent.

Finally, I left them with concrete tools to cascade the learning: simple scripts and scenarios they can use in training sessions, a checklist for safe online selling, and a model for documenting and referring serious incidents. The training was not only informational but also relational, it strengthened a network of people ready to support and protect one another. My hope is that master-trainers will carry these practices into their workshops, that apprentices will learn skills safely, and that the wider community will increasingly recognise that protecting digital dignity is integral to economic empowerment.